


Fridge Meeting

by refinedbuffoonery



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, It's fluffy AF, and talk about how their job fucked them up, that's it that's the whole thing, they eat donuts at 3am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26546158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/refinedbuffoonery/pseuds/refinedbuffoonery
Summary: Sometimes the cure for nightmares is donuts and your best friend.
Relationships: Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Riley Davis/Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 101





	Fridge Meeting

Mac dreamed about his almost death-by-missile more often than he cared to admit. Some piece of the dream changed every time, rarely repeating itself. 

Once, the missile crashed into Codex’s ranch house, killing everyone. 

Another time, he was in the war room, invisible, watching Matty pull the trigger herself. 

Or, Shiva didn’t work, and he and Riley were blasted to pieces before Matty could save them. 

Or, the missile malfunctioned and didn’t explode, instead slamming Riley and him into the ground hard enough that every bone in their bodies fractured, and he was forced to watch the life slowly drain from Riley’s eyes, their crushed fingers still interlaced. 

Or, when the missile came barreling toward him, instead of simply grabbing her hand, he crushed Riley into his chest, and they watched their death come closer and closer before careening upward at the last possible second. The missile detonated in the distance, and he kissed Riley fiercely as debris rained down, imbuing the kiss with his relief at being alive and his gratitude she was there with him. 

In the worst version, Riley didn’t save him, and he died alone, deemed a traitor. 

Tonight, a combination of Matty having an uncharacteristically itchy trigger finger and watching Riley die in his arms had him bolting upright, gasping for air. He blindly clawed his surroundings in a desperate attempt to find the life that had been ripped away from him too soon--from the world too soon--before realizing where he was. 

Soft gray sheets twisted in a heap at the end of the bed. Moonlight slipped through the gaps in the blinds. The only sound in the house was his own breathing. Mac reminded himself that he lived alone. Riley moved out and now had her own apartment, closer to the Phoenix. 

Mac knew she was fine, sleeping soundly in her own bed, but he couldn’t shake the urge to check in on her. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and shot her a text. _Are you awake?_

To his surprise, her reply was almost immediate. _Can’t sleep either, huh?_

Mac found himself sinking into the pillows, tension easing from his body. _Bad dream._

_Want to talk about it?_

He typed and retyped his answer a few times. _I don’t know._

The three little dots appeared, then disappeared. Before Mac could wonder what was taking so long, his phone rang. He hit accept, and Riley’s face filled his screen, barely illuminated by the light streaming through her curtains. “Hey,” he breathed. 

Riley seemed to sit up. “Get up. We’re having a fridge meeting.” 

Mac made a face at her, then realized she couldn’t see it. “Fridge meeting?” 

“Yep. Since I’m not there to catch you raiding the fridge in the middle of the night in person, this will have to do.” Her voice softened. “Come on,” she urged. “Kitchen.” Mac smiled at the ridiculousness of it all and obeyed. 

He grabbed a flashlight before sitting on the kitchen floor, slouched against the fridge. He switched the flashlight on, holding it under his chin like he was about to launch into a ghost story. 

Riley laughed. “Hang on.” He heard her rummaging through a drawer. She must’ve knocked something out, because he heard the unmistakable sound of metal clattering on a hardwood floor, accompanied by Riley swearing. A few seconds later, her own flashlight switched on. 

Mac studied the way the light and shadows exaggerated the angles and planes of her face. Her lips still curved in a forced smile, but no amount of strained laughter and bad lighting could hide the hollow look in her eyes. The same look, Mac knew, was mirrored in his own. 

“So why can’t _you_ sleep?” he asked. 

“I just…” Her voice was quiet. So, so quiet. “...can’t anymore.” Mac said nothing, giving her space to sort through what she was willing to confess. She continued, “The only way I can sleep anymore is if I run myself ragged first--work a long mission with no sleep, let Desi beat the shit out of me in the sparring ring, stay up all night at the Phoenix working on some think tank project, stuff like that. Otherwise, it all catches up with you, you know? The fear, the anxiety, the nightmares…” She trailed off. 

“Yeah, I understand.” He cursed himself for not picking up Riley’s situation sooner. Like him, she was a workaholic, but she’d thrown herself into work even more than normal lately. And, since he only lived with her while the end of the world loomed over their heads, he never stopped to consider that maybe being awake at all hours of the night _wasn’t_ normal for her. Mac felt stupid for not realizing. She always knew where _his_ head was at, after all. 

The only thing he could do right now was offer up a piece of himself. A truth for a truth. 

He began, “Every night, I dream of some past mission going horribly wrong. Sometimes it’s something I can control, sometimes it’s something I can’t. I don’t sleep afterward. Instead, I spend the rest of the night trying to fix what went wrong, whether it’s rebuilding something that didn’t work, or researching something I didn’t know, or going for a run because I just wasn’t fast enough to save…” _You_ , he almost said. _Wasn’t fast enough to save_ you. “...us,” he finished. 

Riley was silent for a few seconds before she said, “I love this job, but I’m starting to realize that the price we pay for saving the world is our own destruction.” 

Mac thought about all the people he’d lost to the job--his parents, his aunt, Jack (sort of), Phoenix agents, Army buddies, innocent lives he couldn’t save. Those losses, and the truth about some of those losses, threatened to smother him on a daily basis. 

Maybe he was only able to cheat Death so often because Death had already taken so much from him. And would continue to take from him. 

All he could say to Riley was a murmured, “Yeah.” 

Heavy silence fell between them. 

“You can come over if you don’t want to be alone,” Riley finally said. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. We can get donuts from the twenty four hour place down the street.” 

Mac snorted. “I’ll be there in twenty.” 

**********

It was a hot, dry night, so Mac blasted the air conditioner while he waited for Riley to finish locking up her apartment and get in the truck. Driving over, there were more cars on the road than he’d thought there would be, but that’s LA for you. The city may go to sleep, but somehow the traffic never does. 

Riley flung the passenger door open and jumped into her seat. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.” Chuckling at her impatience, he watched her move the vents so the cold air hit her square in the face, blowing her hair back like she was in a Maybelline commercial. 

Mac exited the apartment complex and turned onto the street, thumbs tapping the steering wheel with the beat of the music softly playing on the radio. Beside him, Riley mouthed the words to the chorus. They spent the duration of the five minute drive in comfortable silence. Silent car rides were never awkward with Riley like they were with Desi, Mac noticed. He and Riley had always been able to just...exist in the same space, regardless of whether they interacted. 

Even so...there was something off about Riley, but Mac couldn’t ascertain what. 

The parking lot, like always, was packed, which never failed to surprise Mac. Even at 3 am, a line extended from the walk-up window to halfway across the tiny parking lot. Of course, because it was packed, Mac had to squeeze his truck into a super tight space. He instantly regretted not taking Riley’s car. In order for them to be able to get out of the truck at all, he had to park so that they could only get out on the driver’s side. A small price to pay for delicious, super cheap, 3 am donuts. 

Outside, the faint smell of wildfire smoke set Mac on high alert. Riley must’ve noticed the shift in his focus because she sidled next to him, wrapping an arm around his back. “It’s from down south, somewhere in San Diego,” she explained. He exhaled, panic dissipating. Fire season had just started, adding to the long list of things that made him sleep a little lighter than normal. 

He squeezed her shoulder, keeping her side pressed snugly against his while they waited in line. She tensed at first, but with every sweep of his thumb, Riley began to soften and melt into him. Some little voice in the back of his brain reminded him that he shouldn’t be holding Riley like this. _Friends can hold each other like this too_ , he shot back before ignoring the nagging voice completely. 

At the window, Mac ordered a poppy seed old fashioned. Riley ordered a dozen glazed donut holes, which she emphatically claimed were the superior form of donut. As far as Mac was concerned, the jury was still out on that one. 

What the proverbial jury could agree on, however, was that the look of pure bliss on Riley’s face when she popped the first donut hole in her mouth would make any man weak in the knees. 

Including Mac. 

Mercifully, she was too busy eating to notice the way he stared, slack-jawed and helpless. His eyes tracked even the smallest movements, from the swish of her hips to the way she sucked frosting off her fingers. 

Riley was stunning. Anyone with eyes would agree. On the surface, it was her alluring facial expressions, stylish clothes, and her effortless cool vibe, but none of that fit into Mac’s definition of stunning. Except for maybe the facial expressions part. He and Riley could have whole conversations just by making faces at one another. In those moments, it was just the two of them, existing outside of space and time, conveying everything they needed to say without uttering a single word. 

No, in Mac’s eyes her beauty was rooted in her excitement for learning new things, her willingness to try crazy (read: incredibly stupid) ideas, her belief in the goodness of other people. Her beauty lied in the way she wanted to make people’s lives better, and she constantly put her own life on the line to do it. 

They sat at a concrete table and devoured their donuts, quietly observing the other patrons of the donut shop. Most people came in pairs and got one or two donuts each, but there was a group of four middle-aged women who left with six bags filled to the brim like they’d ordered one of everything. _Good for them_ , he thought. 

A young couple joined the line, holding hands and stealing glances at one another. They looked like they had gotten dressed with the closest clothes, not caring what the final outfit looked like. The man wore a wrinkled blue button down with neon green basketball shorts, and the woman wore an oversized t-shirt and black basketball shorts that definitely belonged to the man. Clearly she didn’t live with him, as she’d paired the outfit with high-heeled boots. 

Riley elbowed his side. “That is _definitely_ ‘I-just-had-sex hair.’” Mac snorted, recognizing the curly disaster disguised as a messy bun. He’d once caught Riley sporting that exact hairdo back when she was dating Billy Colton. Not wanting to earn a much harder elbow to the gut, Mac kept that little detail to himself. 

Noticing Riley’s crumpled up paper bag, he asked, “Ready to go?” 

She smiled softly. “Yeah.” 

There it was again. That sensation that something wasn’t quite right. Riley could read him like a book, but he wasn’t there yet. Riley was a masterpiece, as classic, and Mac was reading middle-grade novels. He had some work to do, and Miss “I Bottle Up My Feelings Until I Explode” wasn’t going to be of much help. 

Crawling back into the truck was just as much of an ordeal as crawling out. Mac fought to look at anything-- _anything_ \--else, but his eyes automatically slid to her legs and her ass while she climbed over the center console. He snapped them away before she could notice. 

“This was a good idea. Thank you,” he said, starting the truck. 

“For you? Anything.” She paused. “And for the record, all my ideas are good.” 

He couldn’t argue with that. 

********** 

The drive back to Riley’s place went by too fast, but still not fast enough to keep him from thinking about her response. _For you? Anything_. God, didn’t he know it. 

And it scared the shit out of him. 

The woman beside him was the very definition of “ride or die.” She’s put her career on the line for him. She’s put her life on the line for him. She’s reassured him for years that if he ever needed someone, she’d be there. Any time. Any place. 

Anything didn’t seem like a big enough word to cover it. 

As he turned into her driveway, Mac really hoped her offer to come over and get donuts included _staying_ over. There were only a few more hours until it was time to leave for work, but the prospect of going back to bed in his too-quiet house made a cold weight settle in his stomach. 

Mercifully, when he didn’t turn off the engine right away, Riley asked, “You coming?” Relief flooded Mac’s body. Grabbing his duffel bag from the backseat, he followed her inside. 

He kicked off his flip flops and left them by the door, next to Riley's. "Now what?" he asked. 

She turned and made the most helpless, beseeching face at him, and he knew his answer was _yes_ before she uttered a single word. “Can you teach me how to fix the ceiling fan? It’s doing the thing where it quits working on medium again.” 

Not what he expected, but okay. Mac smiled at her, bright-eyed and eager to learn, but there was something else lurking underneath her genuine desire to learn how to fix it. “Sure.” 

They stood on Riley’s unmade bed while Mac showed her how to take the fan apart, mess with it until she found and fixed the problem, and rebuild it. While she screwed the pieces back together, Mac studied the undercurrent of tension flowing through her body. It had been there all night, despite her best attempts to hide it. He couldn’t decide if it was just from the lack of sleep or if something else was bothering her. 

She cursed. “What happened?” he asked. As far as he could tell, nothing seemed amiss. 

“Dropped a screw,” she said, gritting her teeth in frustration. 

He bent down, running his hands over the duvet until he found the runaway screw. Her knees trembled, ever so slightly. Mac swept his gaze up her body, marking her physical tells that something was wrong. He wanted to reach out to her, but he had a feeling that if he did, she would break down entirely, and he didn’t want that to happen while the ceiling fan was only held together by a single screw. Mac handed her the other screw and waited for her to finish. 

Once there was no risk of ceiling fan parts falling on their heads, Riley lowered her arms and just stared at the fan for a moment. Fixing it was the small win she needed, Mac deduced. She didn’t look like she was on the verge of emotional collapse anymore. 

Mac waited. And waited. And waited. 

When it became apparent she was lost in thought with no path back to reality, he slipped his hand into hers and squeezed. Finally, those big brown eyes connected with his. “Where’d you go?” he asked, softly. She’d asked him the same question countless times when he spaced out. 

Riley pulled him down so they were both lying down, knees hanging over the foot of the bed. 

“Can we not talk about it right now?” 

“Okay. Whatever you need, Riles.” 

She twitched like she was going to move toward him but changed her mind. After the fifth time, Mac rolled onto his side and curved his body around Riley’s, throwing an arm over her. Mac’s heart clenched from being near her, but he shoved the feeling down. 

This kind of intimacy was new, but it was their new normal. He loved it, but _damn_ it was torturous. The worst part was that Mac knew it had developed completely independently from him--or, hypothetically, her--catching feelings, and the prospect of the L-word screwing it all up was now that much more terrifying. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. Riley turned her head toward him. _God_ , her face was so close. If he tilted his jaw just slightly…

_ENOUGH_. 

Riley whispered back, the fierce, protective blaze in her eyes a mirror to his own. “ _I’m_ supposed to have _you_. That was the whole point of this!” 

“Well, you’re in luck. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

A small laugh bubbled from her lips. Mac smiled. She'd be okay. As long as she could laugh, she’d be okay. 

Not bothering to hide his yawn, he asked, “Do you want to try to sleep?” 

Riley closed her eyes and nodded. “Yeah.” 

They made their way under the covers and into uncharted territory. Mac stuck to his side of the bed, leaving plenty of space between them. He knew he should sleep on the couch instead, but Riley seemed perfectly content with him sharing her bed, so, despite his better judgement, he stayed. 

“I’m glad you came over,” Riley murmured, rolling onto her side to face him. 

Mirroring her, Mac replied, “Me too.” 

They drifted off without another word, and when their alarms blared a few hours later, Mac relished the steady weight of Riley’s back pressed against his, as if even in sleep, they were each other’s fiercest protector. 

In the gray morning light, while the birds greeting the dawn and the woman behind him snuck a few extra minutes of sleep, Mac let himself imagine a future full of mornings like this. 

_This_ , he thought. _This would be enough_. 


End file.
